Who's limited?
Once again I get a poem,
About some miserable person,
Whining about his life,
And he meets a bunch of "poor disabled people..."
- people who have 'less' than he does.
- people who can't have the life he has.
- people who make him feel fortunate, better off,
And the poem ends with him
Wrapped up in his thankfulness for what he has that I "don't."
Who's limited?

After an hour of "Just a little more white, two squirts of blue, a dash of black, perhaps a tad more white," the paint store clerk got my gallon to the exact shade I wanted. With a sigh of relief, he pounded the lid on.